Repertoire
by rubirosas
Summary: Richard distracts Mary during a telephone call. (R/M married!AU)


It's much too early on Saturday morning for a telephone call, particularly since she and Richard were out until quite late the night before, but Papa does always seem to call at the most inconvenient times. Richard thinks he does it purposely, to assert his authority over her even though she's a grown woman, married and living in London at that. She'd once scoffed at this, but Mary is beginning to think perhaps her husband is right. Still, she cannot ignore her father's telephone calls, and so when Barrow informs them that Lord Grantham is on the line, Mary takes the call in Richard's study.

Despite what others likely think, the Carlisles do not have a telephone in their bedroom-at Mary's insistence. _"We have to have some aspect of our lives that's off limit to your business,"_ she told Richard when they first married, and he'd complied with surprising ease. Thus, here she is on Saturday morning, in silk dressing gown, hair tumbling over her shoulders, clutching the receiver in one hand and the stand with mouthpiece in the other. She would much rather be curled up in bed next to Richard, still asleep, but as ever, duty calls.

"Good morning, Papa," she says into the mouthpiece just as Richard comes into the office. He's in his familiar blue silk pyjamas, and hasn't bothered with his own dressing robe. He often runs hot and goes without.

Her father greets her and rambles on for a bit about the weather at Downton-a not-so-subtle hint that country weather is much nicer than _city_ weather, and when will she be coming to visit? Does Carlisle really keep her so busy? Mary resists the urge to groan aloud and wonders if she should sit down. She'd remained standing behind Richard's large desk in the hopes that the call would go quickly, but she can tell Papa is after something-and will blather on until he gets it.

_Or until you shut him down_, she thinks, Richard's own words popping up into her head as the man himself walks across the room to the desk.

"Your mother could have used your help last week-end," Papa says as Richard comes up behind her. Mary holds back a small laugh as her husband wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him.

"I doubt that," she says into the phone drolly, for she knows Mama can more than run Downton's affairs without her help.

Richard playfully slides a hand up her side and she can't very well swat him away, with both hands on the telephone, so Mary just wriggles slightly. Richard takes this as an invitation to play and in one swift movement, his large hands are both at her hips, pressing her to him. It feels good, his broad, warm body against her smaller one, and she leans back against him, for a moment forgetting she's on the phone. And then there's her father's voice in her ear.

"Now how has Edith been?" he asks.

"As far as I know, she's fine." The middle Crawley daughter is living in London as well, though with Aunt Rosamund. It's not as if she and Mary have suddenly become best friends, but of course Papa is oblivious to this.

"I do wish you'd reach out to her more," Papa says just as Richard pulls on the sash to her dressing gown. The silky material parts and he slides his hand up to cup her breast.

Mary holds in a gasp, amazed at her husband's brazenness. She's half-angry, yet when Richard goes to tweak her nipple, the little peak is already stiffened with desire. "Yes-of course," she says into the mouthpiece, clutching the stand tightly.

"It would mean a great deal to your mama and I," Papa says.

Mary is about to reply again when Richard presses his mouth to her neck, still palming her breast. She lets out a breath. "I-I'll ring her this afternoon and set something up," she says quickly. With his other hand, Richard pushes up her nightgown, fingers brushing along her bare thigh.

"Mary, dear, are you all right?" Papa asks. "You sound unwell."

"I-I'm fine," Mary says as Richard presses his hips to hers, forcing her to bend over the desk. She nearly loses her grip on the phone, ending up with her elbows on the desk and her bum in the air. It's all very undignified, yet she can't help feeling desire course through her. "It's just early and I-" Richard's hand creeps up her thigh. "-had a late night."

"Oh?" Papa is, of course, more curious than ever. "Did Carlisle drag you about the city to show you off to his cronies?"

Richard can hear all of this, of course, and as if in payback for that remark, he slides his hand between Mary's legs, long fingers stroking her center.

"What?" Mary gasps, barely holding onto the telephone.

Papa repeats himself and Richard roughly pushes two fingers inside her. "No, no," Mary half-moans, "Just dinner-and a show."

"What kind of show?" Papa demands. "Theatre or one of those vulgar films?"

Richard laughs, low, into her free ear, pumping his fingers and out of her faster.

"Theatre-nothing-vulgar." Mary closes her eyes, losing her grip on the telephone receiver. It slips from her grasp and rolls away from her, Papa's voice growing farther away.

She needs to end the phone call, but Richard is relentless.

"I have-to go," she says into the mouthpiece as Richard's fingers sink deeper into her, his thumb brushing against that bundle of nerves in the way that is always her undoing. She lets go of the mouthpiece and pushes it away from her. It falls off the desk with a clatter right as Mary cries out, her pleasure coming over her in waves. She grasps at the desk for purchase. The telephone had been her only anchor and for a moment, she simply writhes in ecstasy, her hips pushing against the desk, then back against Richard. She can feel his arousal through his pyjamas but all she can do is gasp and pant a few moments longer.

He waits a few moments for her to come down from her high, then Richard turns her over to face him. His eyes are half-lidded with desire and Mary smirks, sitting up on the desk and slipping her nightgown over her head, then tossing the thin garment to the floor. As much as he is her undoing, she is his, and it never fails to delight her.

Richard pushes down his pyjama bottoms and then pushes Mary back down on the desk before parting her legs. She slides a hand up under his pyjama top to feel his hot skin, and with a few flicks of his wrist, Richard is as naked as Mary, his hard length pressed against her center.

"Oh," Mary gasps, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He grins down at her, then kisses her hard. "I can think of many things much more vulgar than motion pictures," he says in her ear before entering her.

There are a number of things Mary could retort, but all of them fly from her mind as he fills her and all she can do is gasp and moan, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Fucking you on my desk like this, for one," he says in her ear as he moves inside her. "Fucking you in the shower in the middle of the day." Each suggestion is a reminder of things they've already done, and with each comes a hard thrust. "Fucking you outdoors at Haxby. Fucking you in the smoking room at Downton."

With each thrust, the memories come-

_The way Richard held her up against the wall in the shower, water spilling between them as he slammed into her, causing the glass doors to shake._

_Bent over behind the stables at Haxby, something animalistic unleashed in both of them, as Richard took her hard and fast from behind._

_And of course at Downton in Richard's lap, cigar smoke wafting around them, filling her lungs as she rode him, biting down on his shoulder so the company in the next room wouldn't hear her moans._

-and Mary's gasps grow louder, her nails digging into his shoulders, then scratching down his back.

Of course now there's this to add to their little repertoire of _vulgarity_ and Mary pictures the way she must have looked all sprawled out on the desk, phone in her hands, listening to Papa prattle on as Richard pleasured her. That's all it takes for her to cry out once more, her body shuddering in satisfaction.

Richard thrusts a bit longer before spilling inside her, finishing with a loud groan. He leans down and kisses her neck, then whispers in her ear, "I quite like you vulgar, Lady Mary."


End file.
